Could you do one about multiple personality disorder?
I remember your mother:
she had sixteen different personalities and got arrested because she thought she was a trucker,swearing like a sailor one night at the bar.
And I remember your father with his trailer and boxes of blow up dolls and dildos beneath his cot.
And I remember you with ripped pages from books plastered about your walls and quiet green eyes:the words devastatingly beautiful and ice cream dripping on the sidewalk still come to mind. You were the smartest one in Philosophy but passed notes asking to see my tits. It was all because your Jehovah’s Witness girlfriend was cheating on you.
I’m not gonna lie,I always thought that was most sincere.
You told me she’s okay now,she only has one personality:a neurotic mother who smokes too much.
And your father grew a beard to his waist, moved to the mountains and shot himself, and you said something about wanting to join the army.
I said I wanted to sell roses in another language on the corner of a cobblestone street or you know, be a writer.
But you said, you can’t be both, darling, we aren’t that lucky. *
from Piano Rats.
